


I Put a Spell on You ;)

by VeeTheRee



Series: It's the Fluffy Destiel That Keeps Us Going [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bisexual Dean Winchester, Caring Sam Winchester, Cuddling & Snuggling, Dean's first case is mentioned, Domestic Castiel/Dean Winchester, Domestic Fluff, First Kiss, Fluff, Fluffy Ending, Happy Ending, Human Castiel (Supernatural), Idiots in Love, John Winchester's A++ Parenting, Light Angst, Love Confessions, M/M, Queen - Freeform, Quote: Y yo a ti Cas | Me too (Supernatural), Sam Is So Done, Sam is a Saint, Song: Bicycle Race, Spells & Enchantments, THeY'rE aLreAdY iN LovE, YO A TI, also there is glitter, also they watch Hell's Kitchen cuz Gordon Ramsay rocks, but dont you worry about it, helps, hey i dont make the rules, she's cool, the spell just, the witch is good dont worry, the witch puts a spell on them while singing bicycle race by queen, they also watch a spanish telenovela passingly, tumblr witch, we dont stan John Winchester here, you know
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-15 20:22:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29441832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VeeTheRee/pseuds/VeeTheRee
Summary: There are rumours that a witch in town is acting out, putting people under spells. No person got hurt, yet, and it seems that most of her magic serves to be merely inconvenient as opposed to harmful, but is it? Team Free Will investigates, although, as per usual, there are troubles. The witch puts a spell on Cas and Dean while singing Bicycle Race by Queen that causes them to act like a couple in love (though aren’t they already?) and Sam has to find a way to break the spell. But will Cas and Dean, after facing their desires in the bluntest of ways, want the spell to end?
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Series: It's the Fluffy Destiel That Keeps Us Going [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2119047
Comments: 12
Kudos: 47





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> It is 14.2. 2021, Dean and Cas have a weddingat the Roadhouse, and here they got hit by a love spell!  
> I started drafting this three weeks ago and finished it today after delays, otherwise I would've tried a ficlet with the wedding too, but there are many talented people who put it into words <3  
> I hope you like this, I honestly loved using Queen in this fic (as I usually do in my writing), so if you wanna listen to Bicycle Race to get in the mood, you totally should!  
> All 3 chapters are getting posted at once.
> 
> I saw a prompt like this on Pinterest weeks ago, but didn't save it and I don't remember the tumblr account where it came from either, but it said something alon the lines that what if they got hit by a love spell? I don't recall the rest but if anyone finds it and can point me to it, I'll link it here!  
> Also, respect to tumblr witches, y'all are hella cool~ Just a disclaimer that this isn't to make fun of them. 
> 
> I'm also dedicating this to everyone reading this <3  
> I haven't had the time to properly proof read the last chapter since I wanted to have this finished today, so I apologise for any mistake or error you may find. I may polish it up later :) 
> 
> This is an ongoing series with prompts, AU or not, so if you have anything you'd like to see, let me know :) This is a nice relaxing thing to do along my main superwholock fic  
> My tumblr if you'e curious and wanna drop by: [majesticnerdynerd](https://majesticnerdynerd.tumblr.com/)

At first they had suspicion that a trickster was causing mayhem in the town of Springfield. Things went missing only to reappear days later, people grew animal ears after imitating them but the effect had worn off quickly, vegans were suddenly attacked by bipedal cows, the usual bullshit a hunter can encounter. Other rumours said that a witch used her magic, whatever form of it, to get revenge on those who wronged her, but until the trio of heaven, hell, and chaos conducted any further research on Springfield’s concrete lore, one could only guess. 

Once their motel room was booked, Sam, Dean, and Cas decided that working on empty stomachs would be counterproductive, and as such sniffed out the nearest diner to ravage whatever menu they had. Well, Dean ravaged. He ordered the biggest, meatiest hamburger the diner offered, fries on the side, whilst Sam opted for a healthier salad, which earned him a scowl from his probably high-cholesterol brother. Cas asked for waffles and proceeded to drown them in a shit ton of maple syrup. 

Dean barely glanced at the waitress when she brought him his food, instead watching Cas who aimed the syrup bottle at the naked waffles, the crease between his brows furrowing deeper in concentration, his tongue sticking out slightly. Dork. He muttered a word of thanks to the girl and focused on the juicy hamburger. Ooh, yeah -- this was the good stuff. 

Upon seeing his brother enjoy his food a bit too much, Sam shook his head, fork impaling limp salad leaves and cherry tomatoes coated in dressing. Cas licked sticky syrup off his fingers before putting the bottle aside and picking up his cutlery. The content hum that escaped his lips momentarily after taking a bite made Dean smile. 

“Mh, how can these fries be this good?” Dean moaned, mouth full, making Sam shift in his chair uncomfortably. 

“Please don’t have food orgasm in front of me, you savage,” he glared, forking chicken meat. Dean winked at him and popped another fry in his mouth. Jesus Christ, this was the best warm food he’d had in a while. The burger too. 

“You should try some,” he offered Sam, but he declined. “Jeez, what are you, Miss America that you have to watch your figure? Cas, do you want fries?”

“Sure,” Cas said, spooning some of the maple syrup in the shallow dip of his fork and slurping it up. “Do you want to try the waffles?”

“Give it here. Ooh. Oh, wow! Seriously, how can people cook this well?”

“I am fairly amazed myself. If I knew food could be so delicious I may have considered rebelling against Heaven sooner.”

Sam snorted. Dean chuckled, and then choked on the sweet waffle he was swallowing. “Dude, you okay?” Sam asked, drinking water calmly without doing much as flinch. 

“Fine,” Dean husked after he managed to stop suffocating. He shot Cas and his brother a glare. “No thanks to you, dicks. What if I died? Huh?”

“Don’t be dramatic, there’s a dozen people here who could give you a Heimlich.”

“Seriously. Remind me to spike his salad next, Cas.”

Cas, who sat munching on his waffles silently, eyes darting between the brothers as though he were watching an intense tennis match, stopped chewing and swallowed. “But didn’t you just give yourself away? Sam will know you’re out for revenge and guard his salad like treasure.”

“Then I’ll prank him!”

“Dude, no,” Sam protested vehemently, pointing his fork at Dean as a threat. “We’re not doing that while on a hunt. Last time we did that we almost crashed the car.”

Dean recounted their last sibling prank war; Sam had a point. Damnit. Whatever. “Fine, you’re right. But watch out for the salads just in case.”

Sam stuck his tongue out at him. The waitress stopped by their booth to ask whether they needed anything else, but all three men declined. Dean slurped his coke, stuffing his cheeks with salty fries. He nudged his plate forwards to let Cas know he can take some. He did, tilting his head as he tasted the thin potato sticks. The waitress stood by the bar, dotting something in her notepad.

“So,” Cas asked, looking at Sam, who was looking at Dean who was looking at Cas. “What about the case?”

Sam took a sip from his glass of water. “Right. A couple people in the area reported weird things happening to them, like a girl suddenly grew horns after making fun of the devil, a boy developed fins after he fished in a pond where it’s prohibited, and there were the bipedal cows.”

“It’s a pretty fucked up image,” Dean remarked, taking a bite of his burger. “But why would a vegan be attacked? Of all people?”

Sam shrugged, chasing lettuce on his plate. “Who knows? People have secrets. Maybe the person offended the cows, somehow.”

“Were they from India by any chance?” Cas asked, crossing arms over his chest. “Or cow enthusiasts in general?”

“I don’t think so, Cas.”

“Pity.”

“If you say so. For now it seems like a trickster, if you ask me.”

Dean wiped his fingers clean with a paper napkin. He burped into a closed fist and patted his belly, his hunger sated. “Or that wicked witch of the East, bro. Only question is: no victims? That’s kinda weird.”

“Believe it or not, not all witches are evil,” Cas said mildly. “Well. Far in between, but still. Tricksters don’t care all that much whether their victims die or not. And since there haven’t been any casualties so far…”

“Yeah, sure, why not. Gotta stop it anyway, it’s our job.”

“You guys heard about the witch?” the waitress reappeared, smiling widely at them. She was young, perhaps seventeen, working part-time. 

“Is she well known here?” Sam asked. Cas tilted his head to the side as he usually did when evaluating something or someone new. Dean let his gaze linger on his profile before turning his attention to the young girl. 

“Yeah, she is,” she said, huffing a laugh. “Pretty cool, if you ask me. By the looks of it she goes after assholes who deserve it.”

Dean raised an eyebrow. “Ah. And how does she know they’re assholes?”

The girl gave him a look. “Bruh, it’s Springfield. Everyone gossips like there’s no tomorrow. You should see Sundays after church, the old ladies meet at crossroads just off the side like they have sabbath to attend and badmouth the youth and their kids and in-laws. Spreads like a plague. You just hear stuff unwillingly. Can’t avoid it.”

“Right, okay. Any idea who the witch may attack next?”

“Attack is a bit strong of a word here, don’t you think?” she said, tapping her pen against her chin. She looked around their table thoughtfully, her gaze lingering on Cas and Dean sitting next to each other. “You two are cute together!”

Dean did a mental backflip. “Sorry?”

“You and your partner,” the waitress nodded at Cas, smiling warmly. She blew her red and purple dyed bangs out of her eyes. Sam pretended to wipe his mouth to hide his smirk, but it didn’t escape Dean and he kicked him under the table, earning himself a glare. Cas’ left eyebrow was raised, but he stayed silent, possibly clueless to the implication. Epiphany seemed to have dawned on the girl. “Oh. So you’re not…”

“Of course we’re partners,” Cas said, making Dean choke on his drink. Sam coughed. “We work together, why wouldn’t we be partners?”

The waitress dipped her head in a slow nod, mouth slightly agape as she considered them. “Of course! Hah, don’t worry. You’re just… very comfortable around each other. It’s quite visible. Worked long together, huh? Anyway, I better get back to mine. Been nice talking to you!”

They waved her a goodbye, Dean confused over the whole… whatever she said. Cas seemed nonplussed, and Sam had an incredibly smug look about his face Dean had an inkling desire to smack out of him. Or smother him with a pillow. _Or_ , smack him and then smother him using the same pillow.

Dean slumped where he sat, eyeing the last waffle on Cas’ plate, untouched and floating on a sea of sticky, sweet maple syrup. Cas was folding an airplane out of a napkin (Sam taught him a couple weeks back when they stayed at Bobby’s for a while) and Sam stuffed himself with greens and vegetables like a cow. 

“Cas, can I finish it?” Dean asked him, scooting closer until their legs were pressed together. Cas hummed, entirely focused on his folding technique. And so, Dean helped himself. “This shit is delicious. We’re ordering tomorrow too.”

A commotion behind the bar snapped them all back to reality. 

“And how the fuck was I supposed to know I have a shift today?” a young man shouted at an old lady cook in the kitchen. The lady made to slap him with a spatula, but the waitress stepped between them. 

“I sent you a text you inept creature!” the woman shouted back, spit flying everywhere. “WhatsApp, Facebook, Instagram, everywhere! Youth nowadays stays glued to their phones and when I send a text about the job you begged me to give you you don’t show up? Then too bad!”

The man in question puffed out his chest. “Bold of you to assume I give a damn about this job. You pay me almost nothing compared to Cindy.”

Cindy, the waitress, poked a finger in his arm. “Are you seriously getting jealous over that? I got a raise because I work my ass off here because you’re almost never here!”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“That you’re a lazy lil’ bitch!”

“Hey! Take it back or I’ll--”

“Enough,” the cook intervened, pushing past Cindy and waving her spatula at the boy. “You, Dirk -- out. If you can’t show up on time for the fifth time in a row, don’t come back at all.”

After some intense staring contest between the two, Dirk relented, storming out of the diner in a whirlwind of teenage motion, and the peace resumed. Cindy and the cook chatted in hushed tones for a while, and a nun eavesdropped nearby, whispering in her friend’s ear. Dean and Sam exchanged an exasperated look. Cas finished his napkin aeroplane. He was very proud of it, even though its wings were kind of floppy. Dean thought him adorable. 

“Well, I guess that means we know who’s the next target,” he said, grabbing his jacket and standing up. Cas and Sam followed; they needed to get ready for a stakeout.

~

Rhythmical tapping of fingers to the tune of Queen’s _Don’t Stop Me Now_ could be heard in the Impala. Sam’s gaze was distant, focused outside on the kid Dirk’s house. Cas sat in the back as usual, arms crossed and head limp, resting on his shoulder. He saw Dean stealing glances at him in the rearview mirror. Typical. Stupid dumbass. 

As if he couldn’t be more obvious, either of them. The glances were one thing, but the physical closeness, however platonic for now, was quite telling. Cas and Dean had an affectionate, sweet chemistry between them that was semi-acknowledged, to a lesser degree, Sam assumed. Truth be told, Dean seemed more at peace around Cas than with any other woman Sam has ever seen him with. 

Of course Sam caught glances of Dean subtly flirting with guys before. He even remembered certain instances when they were teenagers that he’d made an off-handed comment to their father about how a guy was looking quite nice, but laughed it off immediately. Sam never saw anything wrong with it, never batted an eye over Dean’s sexuality. Even then, thirteen years old, he understood that it was people’s business whom they liked. 

But on the day of Dean’s seventeenth birthday, something changed. He was sent off on a hunt, alone. Dad had slammed a file containing case information down in front of his unassuming brother who just wanted some peace and sent him off. Dean had been pretty spooked from what Sam remembered -- going on a hunt by himself for the first time and all. Dad and Sam stayed behind at a motel, waiting for him to return. Apparently John had wanted some one-on-one time with Sam, but he’d only gotten drunk later and Sam tended to his books he’d borrowed from the library, tetchy and worried about Dean. 

Sam had tried to inquire what the case was, but John brushed him off, merely stating that ‘Dean was going to learn how to be a real man’ and that was all. But after Dean had returned, he changed, somewhat. He had also brushed Sam off, only telling him that it was an easy salt and burn ghost case. But the demeanor wasn’t victorious, it was… well, if Sam didn’t know better, he’d say scared shitless. By the time he’d gotten back their dad had been passed out in a drunken stupor, and Dean had gone to bed, quiet as a mouse.

It wasn’t until well past midnight that Sam had dared to read through the file. Dean’s case was about two nuns who fell in love, but when the town’s people found out, they’d committed suicide, next to each other. Till death do us apart. Well, it didn’t until Dean put them to eternal rest on his seventeenth birthday. It didn’t really dawn on Sam back then, at least not fully, what this had implied from John’s side. But Dean knew. 

His brother’s subtle hinting stopped completely after that, in retrospect. Instead, he began to flirt with as many women as he could, essentially showing their dad that he was ‘a man’. Over the years, Sam wanted to breach the subject a few times, but then his fight with John had happened and he left. Dean was scared of their father, that much was kind of obvious to him. And Sam even ignored it. He was angry at Dean for not standing up to John, but then again, what would have happened if he did? 

Dean Winchester, who was a boy when his family burnt to the ground and took on the role of a parent, was shown that he wouldn’t be accepted as who he truly is by his own father. On the day of his seventeenth birthday which he probably wanted to spend quietly and with his remaining family members, nonetheless. That was bound to leave a scar on him, and it was visible even years later. Dean had shut out a part of himself he was pretty comfortable with before it was stomped on and torn to pieces. 

Things have shifted slightly when Cas started hanging around. Sure, the frenemy stage was something else, but now that Cas was human and pretty much stuck with them, the chaotic dumbass duo, it looked like Dean was beginning to find his happiness and comfort with himself again. 

Sam often thought of breaching the debate to maybe reassure Dean that, now that John’s gone, there’s nothing to be worried about or ashamed of. That he’s proud of him, and he loves him how he is, and who Dean loves is only up to him and no one will take that away from him. It pained Sam to see Dean deny himself this form of happiness, love, though he understood that it carried dangers of loss he would like to avoid. But it never seemed like the right time, what with their lives being full of other bullshit to take care of. 

But really. Sometimes he and Cas were too obvious and that gave Sam headaches that bordered on stupidity-induced aneurysm. Of course it wasn’t pure stupidity but also suppressed identity, but still. They needed a kick in the right direction, somehow. Some months ago, Sam would’ve prayed to heavens and God to bitchslap these two, but knowing about the divine corruption upstairs, he better leave it as it is. 

“You good, Sammy?” The question took him by surprise. How long has he been stuck in his head? Dean’s eyebrows twitched upwards. 

“Yeah, I’m good,” Sam replied, a bit groggily. “Just thinking.”

“‘Bout what?”

“Stuff.”

“What stuff?” Cas croaked from the backseat. He rubbed at his eyes, blinking wearily to let his sight adjust to the dark. 

Dean flashed Cas a smile. “Looks like Sleeping Beauty is awake.”

“Such is the plague of being human,” Cas said, resting his chin on his closed fist. His eyes fluttered shut, unable to shake the slumber off. “We need coffee.”

Sam reached for the thermos under his seat and handed it to the fallen angel. At times he felt bad for corrupting Heaven’s soldier… But then again, Heaven tried to fuck them over as bad as Hell, so he likes to think they’re even. Plus, it was a bit of a Winchester curse: make supposedly good things turn…. to something less desirable, let’s put it that way. That’s why they can’t have nice things. 

Cas poured himself some of the strong brew in the cap of the thermos and sipped. Dean’s side glances didn’t escape Sam, and as such he rolled his eyes at his reflection in the window and continued observing Dirk’s house. Lights were still on in his room; it faced the street. Easy enough to guard. 

The leather of the front backrest dipped as Cas leaned his elbows on it. He screwed the lid back on and gave the thermos to Dean who asked for it. “Thanks, sunshine,” he said, drinking straight from the bottle. Sam sighed. Not again. That germ-spreading slob. 

Cas hummed, eyes scanning the silent neighbourhood. Well, silent except for the racoons rummaging through some bins across the street. Sam noticed, again, how Cas and Dean inconspicuously observed the other one. Cas’ looks were almost dreamy, innocent-like, while Dean’s were wistful with a whim of sadness around the corners of his eyes. In the case they caught each other’s lingering stares, they looked away as if nothing happened. Jesus Christ almighty, they acted like kicked puppies. Sam wished there was a way to help them get over this awkward friend-but-I-guess-I-secretly-like-you-more-than-so stage of their friendship. 

Dean rolled his window down to let some fresh air in. 

“What’s Fifty Shades of Gray about?” Cas asked suddenly, making him spit coffee out. Sam turned in his seat, eyebrows meeting hairline. 

“Where did you hear about it?” Dean asked in turn, wiping his mouth with the sleeve of his jacket. He put the thermos away. 

“I heard some women in front of the diner mention it. Sounds a bit daunting, fifty shades of one colour.”

Sam snorted, he couldn’t help it. “Cas, it’s not about colours in a literal sense. It’s about a guy named Gray. He’s kind of… not keeping secrets per se, but he has a lot of sides to him. There’s a woman involved, I think she works for him or something.”

“You know suspiciously too much about it,” Dean said, amused. 

“Bite me, I listened to a podcast and they mentioned how shit it was,” Sam defended himself, but Dean only laughed harder. 

“Admit it, you like to read shitty erotica.”

“I will after you admit to reading smutty Scoobydoo fanfiction between Velma and Daphne that one time after Chuck’s Supernatural convention.”

Dean punched him in the arm. “That _never_ happened.”

“Fanfiction dot net and your internet history said otherwise,” Sam declared victoriously. Dean giggled, as he usually did when he got uncomfortable, and looked anywhere but at Sam or Cas. 

Cas, who watched the brothers bicker, opened his mouth and hesitated before asking cluelessly, “What’s smut?”

“NO.”

“NOPE,” Dean shook his head vehemently, he and Sam shouting at the same time. He pointed a finger at Cas. “The topic of smut is prohibited in this car. FOREVER. Am I making myself clear?”

Cas tilted his head, not understanding what exactly was going on, but he nodded. “Alright, Dean.”

“Good. Now let’s focus on the case, okay?”

“Fine by me,” Sam grumbled, relieved that this awkward conversation ended. His adrenaline spiked again when he saw a hooded figure approach the house where Dirk lived. His lights went out. “Guys! Right there!”

The Impala tilted to the right under their joined weights sliding to Sam’s side of the car to get a better look at the mysterious witch figure. 

“Wow, anyone getting Professor Quirrell vibes from this?” Dean said, fake shivering. “Minus the dead unicorn.”

“Cheerful,” Cas deadpanned, plastered to his backseat window. 

“Wait,” Sam said, willing them to shut up. He squinted into the darkness diagonally across from them where the shadowy figure stood in front of the house. “Do you see that?”

The witch whirled around her own axis, the cloak floating around her ankles and then stopped, the hood tilted as she looked up to the dark windows. Even the racoons stopped rummaging to see what the fuck was up in the neighbourhood. The guys watched the witch outstretch her hand to the house, but no further ritual dance was performed. There were also no signs of hex bags being thrown. No, all she did was…. throw confetti at the lawn?

“Excuse me?” Dean said, incredulity present in his tone. “Is this a joke? What witch throws confetti?”

“Maybe she’s trying to budget,” Cas suggested, earning himself two pairs of confused eyes. “What? I’ve been told the economy is ‘shit in many places’, to quote.”

“Right, whatever. We’re going after her and asking questions.”

Sooner than Sam or Cas could suggest otherwise, Dean darted out of the Impala, shotgun in hand and protective amulet around the neck. Cas and Sam followed suit, the sound of car doors slamming startling the witch. 

“No, you stay right there, missy!” Dean growled and ran after her. Wow. Wise. Sam only shook his head and picked up his pace to make sure his brother wouldn’t end up getting hexed into a frog or other form of life. How did this get in him? He was usually careful and sneaky, especially in the suburbs. 

The witch regarded them calmly, but ran to hide in the shadows, Dean right at her heels and off they rushed between the houses and farther behind to a playground. 

“Dean, you idiot, wait!” Sam called after him, Cas similarly exasperated. When they caught up, Dean was standing in the middle of the playground holding the witch at gunpoint. 

“Right, missy, hood down,” Sam heard him say. Whoever this witch was, she was pretty tame, truth be told. The witch giggled, but didn’t oblige. Dean stepped closer. Sam and Cas circled around her to prevent her from fleeing. Dean shifted, unsure of how to react. “We saw your little ritual. Game’s up. I promise not to do anything if you talk. Maybe.”

“Bicycle,” the girl said in a deeper voice than Sam had anticipated. 

“Bicycle?” Dean asked, looking to Sam and Cas for clarification. 

“Bicycle,” the witch confirmed, toning it to a melody. Suddenly, a breeze flew and curled around them, tearing the shotgun and the others’ weapons from their grasps and away, and a strange energy overtook them. Not malicious, but… funky. The witch lifted her arms, the breeze picking up on intensity. “ _I want to ride my…_ ”

“ _Bicycle,_ ” Dean said, blinking in confusion. Sam and Cas also said the word, involuntarily. Oh shit. “ _Bicycle. Bicycle!_ ”

The wind howled, the witch sang. “ _I want to ride my bicycle, I want to ride my bike --_ ”

Sam was knocked out of their little circle, the witch taking his place until it was only her, Cas, and Dean forming it. Sam stayed on the ground, transfixed by the scene. It didn’t feel malicious at all, more like… on drugs. What was in the salad? Did Dean spike his food already?

“ _I want to ride my bicycle, I want to ride it where I liiiiiiike,_ ” Dean sang, his struggle of will against the witch’s spell obvious, but ultimately unsuccessful. Cas looked horrified but oddly fascinated. The wind blew faster, swirling leaves and trash around in strange choreographies. 

The witch pointed at Castiel and his mouth opened to sing, “ _I don’t believe in Peter Pan, Frankenstein or Superman!_ ”

Sam almost fainted. He had to be high on something. No bloodshed, but singing Queen? What the fuck? 

“ _All I wanna do iiiiis?_ ” the witch tooned. 

Cas and Dean now sang together, the musical pauses emphasised by the wind. “ _Bicycle, bicycle, bicycle!_ ” 

“ _I want to ride my bicycle, I want to ride my…_ ”

The witch raised her arms above her head and clasped her hands together, the windy onslaught coming to a climax as the air itself and the treeses and branches along her wailed, “ _ **BICYCLE RACES ARE COMING! YOUR! WAYYYYY!**_ ” She slowly lowered her arms and the wind retreated and died out, calming their surroundings down. Cas and Dean looked dizzy, swaying in their places, and scared shitless. The witch continued singing, now in a softer fashion. “ _So forget all your duties, oh yeah!_ ”

Sam scrambled to his feet, breathless and unable to tell what was reality and what a fantasy. The witch changed the following original lyrics slightly. 

“ _Two stupid boys, they’ll be loving today, so look out for those dummies, oh yeah!_ ”

Sam tried to intervene, but the witch snapped her fingers and he was frozen to the spot. She turned, only her pristine white teeth visible in the dark of the night. She reached into her cloak and drew out a fistful of red glitter. Sam’s heart thumped wild against his chest when she turned to Cas and Dean. They joined her for the next tune.

“ _On your marks! Get set, **go**!_”

The witch blew the glitter at them, and the atmosphere changed drastically from a cheery Queen to something more jazzy, the wind picking up again ever so slightly. She swayed to the rhythm of the song, as did Cas and Dean. Now she was the sole soul to sing on the empty playground. 

“I put a spell on you. And now you’re his!” She pointed at them both. The guys exchanged a confused look. “I put a spell on you, and now you’re in love! Gone, gone, gone, on each other! My cupid fell on you, and it is strong, strong, strong!”

Sam tried to move. Nothing happened. 

“Your scared little lives have been tested -- but don’t you worry, of all the witches, I am the _bestest!_ ”

The restraints on their bodies started withering. 

“I put a spell on you! And now YOU’RE IN LOOOOOOVE! TA-DAAAAAAAA!”

The witch twirled around and did a motion of slamming her palms down on the ground, and Cas and Dean passed out, falling over like cut pine trees. Sam could move. The witch ran away, and he let her -- his brother and friend were more important; he had to make sure they’re alright. 

“Dean! Cas! Wake up!”

Cas stirred, but he wasn’t near his senses to fully rouse, and neither was Dean. He was cold out as a log. Great. They were unharmed otherwise, just knocked out by red glitter and some manic versions of Bicycle Race and I Put a Spell on You. What the fuck even. The witch’s singing sounded familiar, but Sam couldn’t place it. Unimportant -- right now he had to manhandle two grown-ass men into the Impala and get back to their motel room. They can track the witch later. 

And anyway, what did she mean? Putting a spell on them to be in love? What effects did it have?

Weren’t they in love already? 


	2. Chapter 2

Consciousness invaded Cas’ senses gently, prompting him to open his heavy lidded eyes, but the most he managed was to roll over to his belly and huff into his pillow. A thing he couldn’t get used to as a human was the back pain he got from time to time if his sleeping position wasn’t adequate by his body’s standards. Especially if a hunt went awry and he landed on the ground with more force than necessary. Dean usually got angry after that, though not at Cas but at the assaulting party. Occasionally at Cas for being a ‘dummy’ and not waiting for backup. The Winchester rage rampage afterwards often resulted in ugly payback, not that Cas cared. 

Semi-awake, Cas made a mental checklist of body parts that ached: head, back, his right knee and elbow, and he had sore muscles. Memory of last night’s events escaped him. He had a vague recollection of sitting in the Impala, silently observing Dean chug down coffee, an incomplete debate about Fifty Shades of Grey and smut… Oh, the witch!

Cas jerked upwards, wincing at the dull aching in his back and leg. His trenchcoat was gone, hanging over the back of a chair (and it glittered?). The light streaming inside through the curtains was dim and grey; it was too early. His sight was blurry yet, unadjusted to the waking world. 

“Dean? Sam?” he rasped, voice rough with sleep. Cas rubbed a hand over his eyes. Sleep as a passive human activity was alright. Rejuvenating on occasion, but if he was knackered it made him feel even worse when he had only four hours of it. 

Dean stirred in the bed next to his, smacking his lips before burrowing himself under the duvet. Suddenly, Cas stopped breathing for a second. Well, he always did, watching Dean and his beautiful face, but this time, something hit differently. As if something opened up, letting his quiet affections flood him and wash over him stronger than ocean waves. An urge overtook him to touch Dean’s cheeks and run fingers through that short-cut hair of his, caress the freckles on his face. Cas stood up, a distant red flag flaring in his mind. He is able to contain himself usually, but today his inhibitions are nonexistent -- and Cas didn’t particularly care. 

“Oh, you’re awake,” Sam’s voice got through him. Cas turned, sitting on the edge of his mattress. “How are you feeling?”

“Terrible,” Cas replied gravelly and Sam winced in sympathy. “But thank you for asking.”

Sam hummed, sipping hot coffee from a mug. He watched Cas, then Dean, and Cas again. 

“What happened yesterday?”

“The witch got away,” Sam said, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“Did she do anything?”

“You don’t remember?”

“No?”

Sam swallowed a bitter gulp. He set the mug down on a coffee table and opened a window to let in some fresh air. Cas tilted his head, racking his brains about yesterday’s events. Dean stirred again, yawning loudly as he stretched his arms. 

“Eugh, I feel like shit,” he announced, sniffing. Cas thought him adorable. When Dean’s eyes snapped open; he looked even prettier. He first focused on Sam, then at Cas. Grins broke out on their faces immediately, Dean’s green gaze highlighted by spots and shimmies of red glitter lightened up like a Christmas tree. “Hello, Huggybear!”

Sam choked on his coffee. Cas greeted Dean back. “Hello, Dean. You look lovely today.”

“Aw, aren’t you adorable? I suddenly don’t feel like shit anymore.” Sam wheezed, holding onto the wall for support. “You okay, Sammy?”

“Yep,” Sam nodded, not really okay, but neither Cas or Dean really noticed, staring at each other like they were one another’s whole world. They were, naturally, but it became clear only now. “I just… Do you remember the witch hunt from yesterday?”

“Not much,” Dean admitted, getting up from his bed, Cas mirroring him. They met in halfway and crashed into a bear hug. “I missed you, Cas.”

“I missed you too, Dean. You smell nice, like fresh grass.”

“Mhm, and you too. But I like it better when you smell like honey.”

Cas pressed his cheek to Dean’s head and tightened his hold on him. “I’ll remember it. We need to buy more.”

“We do, Huggybear.”

They swayed in the hug, comfortable and warm. Cas felt love fill his heart to the brim. He always imagined it to be exactly like this, Dean’s compact strong body against his. The scent coming from Dean’s crumpled shirt was that of familiarity and home. Cas always connected it with the feeling of safety and this, embracing Dean like the precious, righteous thing he was, made him feel at peace. He sighed, content. Dean too. 

“Uhm, guys?” Sam asked, a bit sheepishly. Cas and Dean turned to look at him, arm in arm. Sam’s eyes widened further, and Cas worried they might pop out. 

“Something wrong?”

Sam shifted uncomfortably. “It’s just… Are you aware that the witch put a spell on you?”

“Yeah, right,” Dean snorted, his arm pulling Cas closer by the waist. Cas relished the contact, sneaking a hand into his hair at the nape of his neck. Dean shivered, which served to encourage Cas to continue his ministrations. “Aren’t spells supposed to wreck you? I’m feeling quite happy, to be honest.”

“Spells are not curses by necessity, universally speaking,” Cas said into Dean’s ear. 

“That,” Sam said, looking mildly uncomfortable, “plus… this spell seems to be different. Not a hex either. I can see you remember shit from last night, so let me summarise. Dean raced after the witch, Cas and I followed you, but then she got into this… this weird musical number and she pushed me out and then she sang Bicycle Race by Queen with you two.”

Dean blinked, pink tongue darting out to wet his lips. A confused wrinkle creased the space between his eyebrows. Cas wanted to trace each wrinkle that formed on his skin. “O...kay? And? I don’t see any damage.”

“Well, no. Because she blew red glitter on you -- traces of which you still have on yourselves -- and then sang I Put a Spell on You from Hocus Pocus about how you two are in love now.”

“What do you mean ‘now’?” Cas squinted. “I’ve always been in love with Dean.”

Sam opened and closed his mouth. Fingers scratched at his chin, and he blew out a breath, trying not to hyperventilate. He rubbed at his temples as though he had a bad hangover. “That’s very sweet, Cas,” he choked out. 

Dean gave the former angel the brightest of smiles and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “I’ve loved you for a long time too, sunshine.” 

Sam looked as though he’d seen a ghost. “So isn’t either of you, I don’t know, WORRIED?”

Dean and Cas jumped at the shout of the last word. “Jeez, Sammy, what’s your problem?”

“Don’t get me wrong -- I’m happy for your declarations of love and all -- but? It’s a spell? And we don’t know what other effects it might have! Or how long it lasts!”

“Hakuna your tatas, Sam,” Dean told him, eyebrows hitching up. He pecked Cas on the cheek again and went to pour them coffee. “I don’t see any harmful bullshit happening to us. And besides, the witch acts unexpectedly. Do we know what happened to Dirk? If he’s fine, and we’re fine, then we could probably drop it.”

“What the -- Dean,” Sam walked over to his brother and shook him by the shoulders. “You’re absolutely bonkers right now. Do you even hear yourself? Drop a case? One that has a direct effect on you, may I remind you. How do you truly feel?”

“Pretty great, actually,” Dean said in a heartbeat. “I have Cas, I have you here. What else could I ask for?”

Sam’s face contorted, not painfully, but more in a searching way, a little lost even. Dean patted him on the back before returning to Cas and handing him a cup of coffee. He entwined their hands and tugged him until they sat on the nearest bed, sides pressed together. Cas was happy. 

“So that’s it?” Sam asked, hands resting on canted hips. “We’re not doing anything about… this?”

“I think we should have a little vacation,” Cas suggested. Something inside him told him it’s quite uncharacteristic, but a bigger aura contained it and shut it up like a phagocyte. Dean’s head rested on his shoulder. Red glitter sparkled like diamonds in his hair. 

“Cas is right, Sam. How often do we get to just chill? The witch didn’t kill anyone--”

“Yet.”

“--so I don’t see why we shouldn’t just enjoy ourselves for once.”

The conflict was visible on Sam’s face. He scratched the day-old stubble on his jaw. “Guys…. Whatever. I’ll do research anyway. I don’t want to wake up to see copious amounts of red glitter in your beds in your place.”

“C’mon, Sammy. Just one day. Or two. We deserve it. Don’t we, sunshine?” Dean turned to Cas for approval. 

“I’m siding with Dean on this,” Cas nodded, sipping his coffee as Sam shook his head, long hair bouncing from side to side. Dean put an arm around his waist and tugged him closer. 

“Infatuated idiots,” he murmured. Dean threw a TV remote at him. “ _Immature_ infatuated idiots. Let’s get breakfast, you love birds.”

~

Sam was genuinely on the verge of having an aneurysm, it couldn’t be anything else. He ignored whatever the fuck happened last night, happy that they got out of the playground unscathed, however incomprehensible the event was. But now as he watched Cas and Dean hold hands in the front of the Impala and he was third-wheeling in the back…. What kind of alternative reality was he in? 

Maybe Dean succeeded in spiking his salad back at the diner and he got such bad food poisoning or cramps that he’s now lying in a hospital, barely alive, and his brain invented fake scenarios to entertain his comatose meat suit while it recharged and repaired any damage he sustained consuming _salad_. If that’s the case, he’ll punch Dean and then spike his favourite pie with… with… something vicious. He’ll see. 

But first: figuring out what the spell exactly did. He spent the night researching types of witches, and the results differed. It seemed that tumblr became a hotspot for modern witches (also called ‘witchblrs’) that offered a new, milder perspective on the craft. Pretty tame, as opposed to what he and Dean had to deal with in the past. However, in spite of finding blogs talking about manifestation and spells in general, nothing could quite explain what he’d witnessed. It was even more disconcerting that Dean gave zero fucks about it, but that could be a side effect of the spell. Cas seemed similarly enamoured. 

Not that Sam had anything against this -- hell, he’d practically mused over this exact problem during the stakeout, but… this? THIS?! Either the universe was playing cruel tricks on them or it was doing them a favour. Thing is, how did it qualify as the real experience when his brother and friend were both under the influence of a spell? 

How long was it going to last? A week? Forever? 

And most importantly -- what would the fallout of all this be for them all?

Sam hated to think Dean and Cas’ potential happiness with each other could be jeopardized by a prank spell, exposing them both to feelings they didn’t have to be ready to share. Or, it would open their eyes once and for all. Sam would rather have the spell gone soon and let them confront this at their own pace. But… maybe, if he got Dean aside while the spell lasts, he could show him he’s supportive of his bisexuality. That way, when the effect vanishes, Dean might feel welcome and not that he’s about to be ridiculed. 

He will have to sit on it, but not too long. If there’s something -- some detrimental catch that could harm them out of the blue -- he’ll have to act fast. He should ring Bobby. Maybe he has lore on this and can shed light on it. 

Arriving at the diner, Dean was plastered to Cas’ side the whole time, not once letting go since they got out of the car. Lovestruck fool was one way to describe him, but Sam caught glimpses of this side of his personality long ago. How repressed was his brother, really? Sometimes the degree of it escaped Sam’s consciousness. This was all the more disheartening. Once Dean is his normal self, they need to have a talk, no exceptions.

Dean deserves to be happy.

~

Cas’ face was brighter than the sun or any star in the vast, fucked up universe they were living in, and Dean will stand by that sentence until his being’s end. And currently, staring at Cas was his favourite activity in the whole world. He could look at his angel all day and never get tired of it. And… he shouldn’t feel giddy, but he did, despite the spell the witch had put on them yesterday. Dean has never expected to be jinxed into love, simply because there wasn’t space in his life for it -- or rather, he didn’t have luck at it or deserved it -- and he certainly never expected to be so thrilled about it either. Probably a side effect. Did it equate to being high? He sure as fuck felt more alive than ever, Cas by his side, and reciprocating. Or was that a problem? He couldn’t think straight -- especially since he himself never was, but shh, he can’t give that energy, he did good to have suppressed it before, didn’t he? -- but he gave zero fucks about that right now when Cas was right there, looking gorgeous as ever. The embodiment of all sunshine that there ever was, and it was all aimed at Dean’s miserable existence. Not as miserable now that Cas pressed himself to Dean’s side and they both looked through the menu options. 

“Waffles like yesterday, sunshine?” Dean asked, nudging Cas’ knee with his own. Cas rested his head atop Dean’s shoulder. 

“I’d like to try the cheese omelette today,” Cas said, considering their options. “The waffles are good, but my palette needs something savoury after Sam’s coffee.”

Sam huffed across the table, his foot tapping under it nervously. He seemed on edge since the morning. Dean roughly understood why, but couldn’t give a damn about it. Cas’ hair tickled the side of his neck. Distraction accomplished. He had yet to feel it under his fingertips, but it looked incredibly soft. He’d wondered about it often, and then it dawned on him that he can simply try it: so he did! And boy, did it not disappoint. Cas’ hair felt light to the touch, almost feathery under his skin when Dean rested his cheek on top of the crown of Cas’ head. It even smelled heavenly, not to make a pun, but it did. He should pay more attention to what brand his shampoo is. This one had a faint scent of honey. Maybe that’s why Cas bought the shampoo, his fascination with bees showed in numerous areas of life like this. 

The young waitress, Cindy, if he recalled correctly, appeared by their table to take their orders. Dean couldn’t decide what to eat. Everything looked delicious. He had had the burger, but maybe he’ll have the pie to switch it up. The caramel apple pie picture on the laminated paper sealed the deal. He and Cas gave their order, but Sam merely glanced at the menu before going for the salad. Basic bitch. 

“The food will be ready in a few minutes,” Cindy told them, dotting the last order in her pad. She flashed them a grin. “I see you two are together after all, then?”

“Yep,” Dean confirmed, smiling widely. He put an arm around Cas and tugged him closer. Sam’s face did an interesting thing where it split between a grimace and a look where he saw something adorable. “I dunno, it’s like we got a kick in the ass to move in the right direction.”

Sam pinched the bridge of his nose but said nothing. The waitress smiled wider. “Ha, I can imagine!” She tucked a stray curly strand of hair behind her ear. “As I said yesterday, you’re adorable together. About time, right?”

“Quite,” Cas said, the smile audible in his voice. He twisted in Dean’s half embrace to peck him on the cheek, getting an ‘aww!’ from Cindy. The kiss was light and short, but it warmed Dean all the same. He returned it, but his poor aim ended up in Cas’ hair, not that it was bad. The softness felt even better on his lips. He nuzzled at it shortly before handing the waitress the menu. 

“Lovebirds,” Cindy giggled, taking the cards and walking to the kitchen. 

Sam gulped his water in two long swallows and set the glass on the table with a thump. “I don’t know what to think.”

“Relax, Sammy,” Dean placated him. It didn’t work. “What? It’s not like we’re dying. We just love each other.”

“Do you realise what you’ve just said?” Sam gaped at him, and Cas looked at him in surprise too. Dean shrugged. 

“Yeah? It’s not like I’m mind controlled.”

A twitch at the corner of Cas’ mouth lightened him up. “Do you mean it, Dean?”

“Of course,” Dean rubbed his arm, leaning in to press their foreheads. “I have for a very long time.”

“Good. Me too.”

Sam made a sound suspiciously close to a seal dying from pneumonia. He refilled his glass and dunked it on his head. “Dude,” Dean frowned. “You’re being the weird guy now. Sure you weren’t cursed to act like an idiot?”

“Shut up, this isn’t funny, Dean!” Sam growled, running a hand through his hair. He looked over his shoulder and around to make sure people weren’t listening (much). “Do you not… Did you think of the consequences of this? When this curse is over?”

“We’ll burn that bridge when we get to it.”

“That’s not how… Can you stop fucking with me and listen to what I have to say?”

“We’re not in Alabama. I can’t be --”

“ _Stop_. We won’t go there. Not funny.”

“It’s hilarious to make jokes about Alabama.”

“No it’s not.”

“Yes it is.”

“ _No it’s not!_ ”

“ _Yes it is!_ ”

“Here’s your food!” Cindy reappeared at the right time, preventing them from bickering further. The three of them smiled up at her. “Anything else I can get ya?”

“No, we’re fine, thanks,” Sam said, stabbing his cesar salad. It lived up to its name. He shoved it in his mouth angrily, chewed on it while getting even more pissed off, and swallowing it in pure agitation. 

Cas tasted his omelette and moaned. “It’s delicious! But Sam is right, Dean. Alabama jokes never were funny. Not even in Enochian.”

“Thank you, Cas,” Sam said, shoulders sagging in relief since last night. Dean nudged him under the table, but more playful than mad. Cas wasn’t done. 

“But also, Dean has a point. Are you sure a curse of idiocy wasn’t cast upon you?”

“Why are you attacking me?! Right in front of my salad!”

“Sam, your hair is wetter than a dog,” Cas said, eyebrows hitching up at the wetness hanging from Sam’s head. Dean couldn’t stifle the giggles. He focused on his apple pie -- tasty, juicy, sweet, perfect -- and avoided his brother’s glare. “Are you enjoying your salad?”

“I’m trying,” Sam replied grumpily. 

Dean leaned into Cas now, sneaking his left arm under Cas’ right. Even without grace Cas remained the strong warrior he was created to be, but those strong muscles could be squishy and comfortable too. The duality of an angel. Or ex-angel. Whatever. Cas would forever be graceful in Dean’s eyes. 

“Do you want a taste?” Dean asked, rubbing his cheek against the trench coat as he looked up. He held out a fork with the apple pie, and Cas wordlessly opened his mouth as Dean fed him. “What do you think?”

Cas chewed the apple pieces and dough. “Good. Exceptionally good.”

“I know, right? We should start making our own pies. Well, I should, I’m not letting you come near an oven that soon after what happened last week.”

“How was I supposed to know that you don’t stick a knife in a toaster?”

“It’s metal! And anyway, didn’t you like, know Tesla?”

“I knew Cesar,” Cas replied, pouting at Sam whose appetite apparently disappeared. Sad cow. “He was stabbed, don’t get me wrong, and Zachariah had won a bet that day, but it went differently.”

“How so?” Dean snuggled closer. It was Cas who put an arm around him now. His speech seemed to have piqued Sam’s interest, too, and he propped his chin up on his closed fist. 

“Cesar was a very outspoken man, history is not wrong about that. But he also liked to dress in drag, the senators included. He was going to a rehearsal, because they had a private show coming up, but Brutus didn’t get the lead role and I think Zachariah and Gabriel teamed up to rile him up further. I don’t know the details, but I remember passing by and he was a mesh strainer already. He looked like they poured ketchup on him, but not everyone from the senate came. Brutus called everyone to join him, but in the end the number didn’t add, and it also didn’t matter.”

Dean snorted. “So it was like a school project -- nerd kid does most of the work and the others get credit in spite of not participating?”

“Similar, but not really. Cesar wore nice wigs, though.”

“Don’t tell that to History Channel,” Sam mumbled, pushing his plate to the side. He grabbed his jacket and made to scoot out of their stall. 

“Where are you going?” Dean asked, not really puzzled by it. He acted weird, as if this was out of place. Of course it wasn’t -- Dean and Cas were just out in the open now, like they should’ve been before. 

Sam shook his head. “Just getting some air. I’ll be right back.”

“I bet the witch did curse him,” Dean said to Cas, lifting another forkful of pie to his mouth. The metal clanked softly as his teeth sank into it, and Dean shoveled the rest of the apple deliciousness down his throat. “I could eat this for the rest of my life.”

“You’re adorable when you talk with your mouth full,” Cas smiled, kissing his brow. Dean could do this for the rest of his life too, however short or long; this, just being with Cas, and Sam, happy, domestic. Sign him up if it ever becomes a possibility. Technically it already did and they were living it. Bliss. 

But was it the curse or Dean’s subconscious talking?

~

Outside, around the corner and behind the diner in an alleyway overlooking the main street, Sam was losing his shit, as he often did when his brother’s and his friend’s well-beings were concerned. He paced up and down the length of the alley, gripping at his hair. He had waited for this moment for _months_ only for it to be snatched and synthesized by _glitter_ while _Bicycle Race_ was being sung! What! The! Fuck!

This has got to be some joke. Divine or damned, it sure did a number on all three of their collective psyches. For Cas and Dean to do a 180 overnight? Yeah, that’s gotta fuck them up once they come down from it. IF they come down from the curse, that is. So far it truly didn’t do anything malicious, but will it stay like this or will an obstacle pop up in the midst of happiness? 

And more importantly, how will both of them react when they get the curse resolved? Will they even remember this event? Will they lock themselves in separate rooms and refuse to meet the other one? God dammit. Sam didn’t want to rain on their parade -- Dean was smiling unusually often since he woke up, and Cas too -- but… it would be far better if it happened the natural, organic way, wouldn’t it? No possible loss of memory or remorse… 

He came to a halt near the dead end on the alleway, glaring invisible holes in the grimy old bricks. Fuck Springfield and its bipedal cows and glitter-blowing witches of the night. Fuck its motel that had itchy sheets and fishy water. Fuck this Winchester life, honestly!

Sam kicked a bucket out of frustration, literally, because he did a couple times before and that wasn’t fun, so he rather kick a real-life bucket without the idiomical expression attached for the sheer pleasure of causing the stupid alloyed metal pain. Why is he even thinking this? What’s the point of this bitching mental monologue? He should’ve slept for at least an hour, but alas. Such was his plague. 

“Had a rough night?” the voice of the waitress cut to him through the resonance of the bucket. Sam gave it an ugly glare that did nothing to silence it, though it would seem the bucket wheezed even louder just to piss him off. He blamed the salad. 

“You could say that,” he blew out a breath, resting hands on his hips. “Sorry, uhm… he deserved it.”

“Who, the bucket?” Cindy peered behind him, eyebrows jumping in amusement. She held a cigarette between her middle and forefinger. “I’m sure he did. What are you doing out here?”

“Getting some air.”

“I see. The two of them inside are something, eh?”

Sam tilted his head from side to side. “A little. It’s just… look, don’t you know where the witch may live? Or any way to contact her?”

“Why?” Cindy considered him, if suspiciously. She threw the cigarette on the ground and extinguished it under the sole of her foot. A cloud of smoke escaped through her nostrils. 

“I need to talk to her.”

“She’s not that talkative.”

“Hopefully she’ll have five minutes,” Sam scratched at the back of his neck, thinking of their options. “I just want to ask her how long her curses last.”

Cindy’s eyes crinkles at the corners. “Did you get cursed?”

“No, but my brother and our friend did.”

“Ah, they are lovey-dovey. Quite the change from yesterday, huh? Very sparkly.”

Sam took a deep breath. “It is. But… look, it’s complicated. I wanted these two to get together, but not by having a curse placed on them. I need to talk to the witch -- we saw her yesterday, but she just… disappeared after she was done.”

“How did she look?” Cindy asked. 

“No idea, she was cloaked. I only saw her teeth when she grinned at me before pinning me to place.”

Cindy hummed, canting a hip. Her curly hair had a red highlight that contrasted nicely with her dark skin. “Well, she sometimes frequents this alleyway to talk to the mice. I won’t give her away, don’t wanna get jinxed, ya know. Besides, if you wanna speak to her, you gotta do the leg work.”

“Of course,” Sam nodded, feeling incredibly tired of everything. He needs a vacation. But first he needs to break this spell, sit Dean down for a girl talk even if he has to chain him to a chair and duct tape his cake hole until he and Cas start dating _for real_. 


	3. Chapter 3

The ceiling in their motel room had cracks spanning over the length and width of it like a giant spider web. There were major spots where the paint peeled off, and if Castiel were visually impaired and the ceiling had phosphorus properties and glowed in the dark, he would say it almost resembled a parody of a night sky. Clearer too, since it hung two or three meter above him, plus there was no pollution to screw his view. Stargazing is a wonderful activity in which he hasn’t engaged in a lot due to his previously busy angel schedule, but he’d helped design some of the constellations. 

“Would you like to go stargazing some day?” he asked out loud, turning his head to face Dean who was lying next to him in their nest. The three of them returned an hour ago, but Sam rushed off just as soon in his hunt for the witch. And so, Dean and Cas put their single beds together and nestled in it, cuddling for warmth. 

Dean propped himself up on an elbow. The crinkles around his eyes deepened as he smiled down at Cas, his free hand cradling through his dark hair. “Why not? We’ll get blankets, pie, have a picnic. Just the two of us?”

“Sam could be cordially invited?” Cas suggested, even though everyone knew Sam would probably leave it up to them. Politeness should be the first thing on offer, however, no? “I mean, we know he is a third wheel, but he has common sense.”

“Sometimes,” Dean snorted, snuggling up to Cas whose arms pillowed his head. Dean hooked his leg over Castiel’s. “You’re a nice body pillow, Cas. I love that.”

“Is it like those Japanese waifu thingies?”

A giggle. Dean’s grip on Cas tighetend momentarily. “No. Maybe. I dunno, never had one. Ask Sam. Or google it, that’s probably better.”

“Okay, Dean.” Silence, comfort, all that enveloped them in their little den of peacefulness. Cas turned his neck so that he rested his chin atop Dean’s hair, and he could inhale the new shower scent lingering in it. It had a sweet floral smell, not pungent, but soft and calming, like a forest. A thought struck Cas. “Dean?”

“Yes, sunshine?”

“When did you realise you loved me?”

Quiet. The peace was shortly disturbed by a droplet of curiosity that sent ripples across its surface, but it resumed as Dean propped himself up again. He sat up, cross-legged, but still hovering over Castiel. A warm hand traced indistinguishable patterns across Cas’ clothed stomach, tickling if the touch became too light. Dean was lost in thought, his chin resting in his open palm as he gazed at his angel. 

“Hard to say,” he replied. Cas intertwined their fingers together and squeezed. “I…. It’s just you. You are there to help me, us. I feel like the seed of it has always been there. At least since we became friends. My mind is clouded for some reason, I can’t pinpoint the exact moment. Sorry.”

“There’s nothing to apologise for. I have to agree it may be rather difficult to think of something that may have been groundbreaking.”

“Do you know when that was for you?”

Cas hummed and sat up to mirror Dean. He wrapped a duvet around them and they leaned on the conjoined headboards. “I think it has been a very gradual process. But maybe somewhere between when I gripped you tight and raised you from perdition and when I rebelled against Heaven’s orders to serve the righteous man.”

“Dork.”

“Perhaps, but I’m your dork now.”

“I’m glad for that.” Dean bumped their shoulders, teeth flashing in a grin. Cas leaned in to kiss him and wipe it off his face. Kissing Dean was his new favourite human activity to do. The tender nips at each other’s lips deepened, and it felt reverent, rejuvenating even. “You’re a good kisser. How is that?”

“Residual grace?” Cas raised an eyebrow, shrugging. “No idea. I’m following your lead. You’re the pro.”

“Insinuating I’m a whore, Cas?” Dean teased, play shoving him. Cas bumped into him to get back at him, and soon they were wrestling on the bed, sheets crumpling and falling to the ground in pools of cheap fabric. 

Cas discovered an effortless strategy to get Dean to yield: tickles. He ran his fingers over Dean’s ribs and stomach and he toppled on the mattress as a pile of stitches and mad giggles. Cas straddled Dean to stop him from moving, both laughing hysterically as the latter returned the assault, although it wasn’t as effective as he’d hoped it would be. 

“Stop! Stop! This is illegal!” Dean wheezed, trying to grab Cas’ wrists and pacify him, to no avail. Cas pulled a reverse card and caught his, pulling them over his head and pinning him down. 

They stared at one another, gaze intense, breathless and grinning. Cas cocked an eyebrow. “Does this mean I win?”

“Maybe,” Dean tipped his chin up in invitation, and they kissed again, fervently and yet unhurried. Cas slid his hands up Dean’s wrists and intertwined their hands again, their chests connecting, breaths mingling. Suddenly, Dean took advantage of Castiel’s distracted state and turned them around, flipping their positions. Cas huffed as his back was slammed into the mattress, arms crossed over his chest. “But I am way better at this, sunshine.”

He winked and then retreated to get up and stretch. Cas propped himself on his elbows, flexing his feet and pouting at Dean who pretended he didn’t see him. “Unfair. I deserve compensation for your trickery.”

“Do you?”

“Yes! I’m your…” Cas trailed off, tilting his head in contemplation. That caught Dean’s attention. “What are we?”

“Sam would likely say ‘idiot sandwiches’, I think,” Dean shrugged, but at Cas’ confused look he added, “That’s a Gordon Ramsay reference. We watched Hell’s Kitchen and Kitchen Nightmares a few days ago, remember? It had a rerun on TV.”

“Oh. Yes, I remember now. But no, I meant… what are we now, this,” he gestured between them, sitting up. “I know this is a curse, but…”

“Cas, hey,” Dean interrupted, stepping closer in the vee of his legs where he stood. His hands rested on Cas’ shoulders, strong and anchoring. Dean had an understanding look on his face, eyebrows knitted together. “Does any of this feel bad?”

“No. It feels right.”

“Yeah. It doesn’t even feel like a curse, does it? I dunno, but I don’t want to think about it. How about we enjoy this? We’ve wasted enough time as it is and… I feel happy with you, Cas. I love you.”

Cas hugged Dean around the waist and pressed his face into the soft squishy skin under the layer of his t-shirt. “I love you too.”

A grumble from the pits of hell interrupted their idyllic moment. “Oops, that’s me,” Dean said shyly, ruffling Cas’ hair and taking a step back towards the kitchen. “Let’s make some food, I’m hungry.”

“You’re always hungry,” Cas remarked, wincing as his knee ached when he put pressure on it. The pain passed once he walked a few steps. 

“Not for food only, ya know,” Dean winked, sending shivers down his spine. 

Hours later, the digital clock on Dean’s nightstand showed the time 19:07. He and Cas cooked dinner together (well, Dean did, Cas observed and stared at his beloved from the table) and now it was ready to serve. He prepared pancakes, simple and quick, while he instructed Cas to fetch whipped cream and jams from the fridge and put them on the counter. Sam came and went, feverishly researching all he could about modern tumblr style witchcraft that fit the witch’s spells and vibes. Cas suggested he get a black tourmaline to calm down and Sam had thrown him an ugly glare before running out yet again. 

Dean arranged the crepes to his liking, lined their plates full and served them at their small rounded table. They had gone out shopping hours earlier and Cas had bought scented candles too to aid the dinner atmosphere. He lit them up, extinguishing the matchstick and disposing of it in the trash can. 

Both men got seated, tucked behind the table, legs entangling underneath on instinct. They did this at diners or fast food restaurants before as well when they sat opposite of each other, so it wasn’t really a new addition. Cas rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, exposing his forearms, and Dean narrowed his eyes on them momentarily before snapping back to reality. He doesn’t have to hide his reaction to this now that they’re out in the open, right? As such, he let his gaze wander over the whole of Cas -- or what was visible of him. The hair, often unruly and wild, the sky blue eyes containing immeasurable kindness and love, and in general graceful above and beyond, even when he became a human. He was beautiful while being an angel, and none of that quality has degraded since his fall. If anything, it strengthened and grew exponentially. 

They dug in, silent save for their munching and the sound of cutlery clinking on the smooth surface of the plates. Cas moaned, pink tongue darting out to lick at his lips. Dean stared in alarm, fork halting midway to his mouth, though if from fear that he cooked something inedible or an aphrodisiac, he had no idea. 

“Cas?” he asked carefully, and his eyes snapped open as he chewed on the pancake. 

“It’s delicious, Dean,” Cas said, his foot nudging Dean’s softly. He devoured his pancake at supersonic speed. “You cook really well.”

“Thanks, sunshine. I try. Ooh, yeah, I’m definitely good. I’ll teach you the recipe, hm?”

“That’d be a nice couple activity.”

Dean smiled at him. “I think so too. You look adorable, by the way.”

“Thank you,” Cas muttered, dipping his head in an attempt to hide his blush. This felt… right. Domestic, peaceful. Just perfect. “You look quite cute yourself.”

“You know, I can imagine us like this forever,” Dean said lightly, not really knowing where he got the courage to utter these words. Oh wait -- the curse. Ah, fuck it, what was going to restrain him? Nothing! Can tipped his head like he always did when he absorbed new information, so Dean continued. “Us, I mean. This wound down, quiet thing. Being together. I don’t want to be on the move constantly, ya know?”

Cas brows furrowed before smoothing out. “I do, Dean.”

“Would you be okay with it?”

“With what specifically?”

“Quitting this…. hunting business. Start a new family business perhaps. I was only half-joking when I said we should start making pies together. Before this curse I thought it was wistful thinking but, however irrational I may be, I do hope for it more often than not. Do I make sense to you?”

“Loud and clear.”

“Good. Uhm, well. Huh, that was not that hard to say, actually. One thing the curse is infinitely good at, I guess. But I realised that I am happy with you, and maybe not having to worry whether we’ll survive the next hunt could be good?”

Cas fixed Dean with a concentrated, soft, and understanding look. He reached for his hand, thumb brushing over the knuckles. “Dean, I am going to be completely honest: I will be happy by your side, whatever we choose to do. Hunting or winding down to bake pies or tend to bees, I don’t care. I just want to be with the man I love.”

“Wow.” Dean’s breath hitched, and he ducked his head to hide the look of ambush and overwhelmed emotions that threatened to break loose. No one ever before has made their declaration so loud and clear, nor did they sound so convincing. And even the unbewitched part of Dean trusted Cas’ words. They were inseparable, weren’t they? “I, uh. Me too.”

No words were needed after that. Cas merely gifted him a smile speaking for itself, and they continued with their dinner. They washed the dishes together, elbowing each other in the ribs and trading kisses on the cheeks, necks, shoulders, wherever skin was exposed. Afterwards they settled in their abandoned nest of a conjoined bed again, Dean splaying diagonally across it and Cas snuggling up next to him as they scouted through TV channels. Everything was trash and Hell’s Kitchen wouldn’t be on until half an hour later, so they agreed to watch an unknown soap opera in Spanish. However, their collective attention span lasted for three minutes before it diverted to each other and another kissing session ensued. In the end, they forgot about Gordon Ramsay or his legendary British insults, only the two of them occupying the tiny motel room, and they cuddled until Dean fell asleep tugged under his chin, oblivious to the world outside. They slept through the hysteric confession in Spanish on the TV, the woman screaming _‘YO A TI, CASSANDRA!’_ at her lover before throwing a bouquet of roses at her and tackling her to the ground, rugby style, not rousing even when the keys jangled in the door and Sam came in, exhausted from his unsuccessful stakeout, but secretly pleased to see his brother and friend so relaxed after so long. 

When Dean woke up the next morning, something changed, but not for the worse. The events from the previous day were crystal clear, and he remembered everything vividly. But somehow, it seemed subdued, solidified, if a little abated. But as he gazed at sleeping Cas in his embrace, all the feelings that once lay buried deep down within flooded him anew, and he thought that well, curse or not, he may as well enjoy it while it lasts. 

Time to go all out.

~

Love knew no bounds and it won over any and all struggles, war, arguments -- everything. And in the present moment, it won over Sam’s sanity too. It’s been two days since Dean and Castiel had been put under a love spell by the mysterious glitter witch, and none of the effects seemed to be abating nor withdrawing. The lover boys were plastered by the other’s side constantly, and Sam walked in on cuddling them _a lot_. He relented to waiting at the door of their motel room to listen in case any uncanny sounds made themselves clear and he’d rather go sleep in the Impala than have to go wash his eyes out with Holy water should he see bits of his brother he _never_ should lay his gaze upon, but so far he thankfully hasn’t had an encounter with death. Well, he did, but not this kind. 

Were this a real, organic development of their relationship, Sam would’ve shouted it from the rooftops that _fuck yes, finally!_ but no. _A tumblr user_ had to intervene! TUMBLR! As if this wasn’t catastrophic enough already. And his stakeouts proved to be fruitless. He spent hours watching that alleway like a hawk but all he saw was a hobo dressed as Winnie the Pooh arguing with rats and an old lady who whacked her nephew with a stick for saying the word ‘yeet’ unironically. Cindy came by a few times too, but that wasn’t concerning. 

Seeing Cas and Dean be lovey-dovey and cute… Sam wished the veil of the spell wouldn’t be there to cause it. They looked so happy. And he hesitated at times whether it would be wise in the end to break the spell. They didn’t have a guarantee that it would be okay afterwards. Though if he tied them up in chairs facing each other until they talked it out… He’ll think about it. Yeah, that’s plausible. Okay, he has a plan B now, that made him feel calmer. 

At present, Sam sat at the kitchen counter in their grimy room (was that a cockroach?) while Dean leaned on Cas’ shoulder, the latter combing his fingers through his beloved’s short cut hair. They stuffed their cheeks with popcorn as Gordon Ramsay criticised a cook’s spaghetti, ultimately cussing him out. Sam took a sip of his shitty black coffee, not even wincing after years of getting used to the scorching, bitter taste on his tongue. It was still pretty _blergh_ , but bearable enough not to gag. Cas and Dean started whispering, and soon their stifled giggles reached his ears. He looked up from where he mindlessly stared at a stain on the floor (how did it get there?), and saw that they were looking at him. 

“What?” Sam frowned. Dean snorted, averting his gaze, jaw clenching to avoid laughing. Oh wow, this again. Cas was a tiny bit better at hiding his amusement. “What is it?” Neither guy spoke up, but their shaking shoulders and exchanged knowing looks told him enough. 

Sam sighed. “Is this about the salad again?”

“No. It’s about your hair,” Cas replied, and Dean broke into hysterics. Rolling his eyes to see if any rational thoughts remained alive, Sam hopped off the counter and poured the rest of his awful coffee down the drain. 

“What do you have against my hair?”

“Nothing, it’s just… flouncy.”

“Flouncy?”

“Yes, and it looks like it comes from a My Little Pony figurine. Did you know you can comb their hair with a brush that comes in the package?”

Sam blinked and braced himself before turning around. Yep, Dean was completely losing it, and Cas bit on the tip of his tongue to stop himself from laughing. “If you tell me I should wear a ponytail, I’ll deck you.”

“Aw, don’t be like that, Sammy,” Dean cooed, putting an arm around Cas. He kissed Cas’ temple and opened his palm that revealed popcorn for Cas to eat. “We’re just pulling your leg.”

Sam didn’t even feel like it was out of place, this domesticity. Sure, he will forever be a third-wheel, but sharing this, being allowed to witness their love, even though this was enhanced by a _glitter_ spell, was precious. If only this would last. He had to make sure it does once he confronts the witch. 

He looked at the clock: 8:49. He may as well go out on the stakeout. If he comes empty-handed, he’ll go talk to Cindy and try to persuade her to let the witch somehow know he just wants to talk how to break this so that he can kick his brother’s ass into confessing his profound love and bond to his fallen angel FOR REAL. Only then will Sam be able to sleep peacefully. 

His exit was due anyway; Dean has been eyeing Cas’ profile for the past five minutes and while Sam didn’t mind displays of affection, he surely had firm boundaries as to what acts he wanted and didn’t want to see. He started gathering his wallet and jacket. “I’m going to get some beer. Anything else you guys want?”

“Yeah, condoms and lube,” Cas deadpanned and Dean spat out his salivated popcorn as Sam tripped on his own foot. Both brothers turned to him, eyes wide. Cas smirked. “Relax, I’m joking. We agreed to take it slow.”

“You got me there for a sec,” Dean said, coughing up corn pieces. Sam shook his head. “But I wouldn’t mind speeding it up, if you wanted. I’m up for anything as long as --”

“I DON’T WANNA HEAR IT! I DON’T WANNA HEAR IT!” Sam shouted, quickening his pace and all but rushing outside, muffled laughter of the two idiots inside the motel room haunting him. Being mentally scared didn’t even begin to cover it. He needs a whole body-dunking baptism. 

Shaking off the unpleasant imagery Sam didn’t ask for, he got in the Impala and drove back to the diner and parked a small way off the alleyway. The sky darkened, the road blacked out and empty. The lamps were broken, though the electric crackle could be heard across the street. Only a faint light coming from the diner’s porch illuminated the shadows, and even that wasn’t sufficient enough. Sam waited for fifty minutes before something stirred. That something was Cindy who came out to empty a trash can and light a cigarette. Great. Nothing still. Sam was ready to give up, but his determination took over his body and suddenly he found himself walking towards the young girl, desperate for answers. 

“Hey, uh, Cindy?” he said, slowing his steps as she was about to return inside. She grinned at him when she saw him, tipping off the ash from her cig. 

“Sam, how are you?”

She took a long inhale. “I’m… good. Listen, I’ve tried to wait for the witch for the past few days as you recommended but…”

“Yeah? Any problem? I saw you sit in the car.” Her nose scrunched up, eyebrows hitching up. 

“Yep. Well, I didn’t see her.”

“You didn’t?”

“No. Unfortunately not.” Cindy looked at him funny, but he continued. “I’m sorry, I know you don’t want to get jinxed, but I really need to talk to her. I won’t harm her, if that’s what she’s worried about, or tattle on her, none of that. It’s just that Cas and Dean have been cursed to be in love and… Look, I’m happy for them -- I wanted this to happen, but not like this. I don’t want them to be in this bubble only for it to burst and leave them wounded. They both have been through a lot and I think that it should’ve happened organically. I just want the witch to take it back so I can talk to my brother and his thick skull that I don’t care who he dates.”

Cindy listened intently, lighting up a second cigarette. She nodded affirmatively wherever appropriate as Sam went on and on. “I see,” she said eventually. She scrutinized the man in front of her, shoulders rising and falling. “Well, the witch has been there, you know. She’s here now, too.”

“What? Where?” Sam looked around, doing a 360 under less than a second, his head spinning. No one else was on the street besides them. Cindy raised an eyebrow, an eloquent way to say ‘ _wow, really?_ ’ and she grinned, the teeth flashing similarly like they did that night two days ago when the witch put a spell on Cas and Dean… Oh shit. “You? It’s you?!”

“Dawned on you, did it?” Cindy smirked, drawing in another breath. The smoke escaped through her nostrils. “I’m the witch.”

“You.”

“In all her glory.”

“What… Why? How? Why tumblr?”

“It’s for free and full of resources,” she replied, throwing the cigarette butt on the ground, her heel grinding it. Her chin jerked towards the diner. “Come in, I’ll explain.”

Inside the warmth of the building, Sam and Cindy sat in the back of the stalls. She was closing up, so no one would overhear them. “See, all those people I jinx or hex deserved it,” she said, pouring them both coffee. This tasted much better. Sam was still trying to wrap his head around this, so he listened and quietly drank the black liquid. 

“Like the kid who fished where he wasn’t supposed to. Lots of people here are plain ignorant and disrespectful, either towards others or nature. That pond is a natural habitat to a species of frog that’s kinda cute, and I get protective of cute things. The guy who made fun of the devil deserved it too. Things like that shouldn’t be taken lightly.”

Taking into consideration how much of a drama queen Crowley could be, Sam tipped his head in agreement. “But what about the vegan and the bipedal cow?”

“That? Ah, just a treat for me. That was my cousin. She preaches about going vegan -- and it’s fine, live and let live -- but when the local farm asked for support so they didn’ go bankrupt and didn’t have to sell their cows then wow, suddenly it’s not about saving cows anymore! She’s a stingy bitch, lemme tell you that. She gives vegans a bad name if you ask me.”

“I’m sorry,” Sam said, not exactly desiring getting mixed up in another family feud. “But why put a spell on Cas and Dean? Why a love curse?”

“It’s a spell. Curses are usually used for teaching someone a karma lesson. Don’t mix it up. But to answer you, I dunno. My intuition just told me that these two are trouble.”

“That’s putting it lightly.”

“I’m not surprised. If you remember, I asked how long they’ve been together, and Dean I think got all confused.”

“He’s like that,” Sam sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. He’s so sleep deprived that even coffee can’t help keep him awake. He has to push through. 

“I sensed that. I’ve looked at your table and saw them eyeing the other one a lot, and when Dean got defensive and -- Cas is his name? okay -- Cas was pretty clueless and literal, I thought that shame on them. And then the fiasco with Dirk happened and I overheard you talking and that you’d go on a stakeout when you found out where he lives.”

“You really do hear everything in Springfield, huh?”

“Maybe don’t discuss your business in public places,” Cindy winked at him. Fair point. “Anyway, you were correct, and that lil’ bitch got his payback.”

“What do you mean? You didn’t…?”

“Kill him? Oh, please. That’s not my mojo. I just got him to be punctual.”

“How?”

Cindy smiled so sweetly that it became scary. “I made him see clocks everywhere and hear their ticking for a full day. Should keep him on his toes.”

“Wow. Uh, how do you do it?” Sam asked. “Not to offend, but you’re quite tame.”

“Yeah, that’s because I’m a chaotic neutral. You see, tumblr showed me a witchblr community and I quite like it. Manifestation, glamours, warding. It’s nice and grounding, and it helps if others piss you off. You should look it up.”

“I did, but how can it work?”

“Intent,” Cindy said. “Lots of people have the potential, some more than others. I discovered that when I get mad at people for being dickheads, glitter and a bit of theatrics and the full moon are on my side.”

“Why glitter? And sorry, but why sing Queen and then Hocus Pocus?”

Cindy shrugged, chugging her coffee. Sam rubbed at his eyes. “Theatrics, as I said. I’m a theatre kid, I plan to go to Chicago after graduation. Was I good?”

“Uhm, yeah. I mean, I think so. I was more concerned about you tying my brother and friend to place while throwing red glitter -- that has gotten everywhere may I add -- on them while I couldn’t do much about it.”

“I’d say I’m sorry but I’m not. They’re happy, doesn’t it matter?”

“Cindy… I don’t want them to live happily ever after because a spell is placed on them. Can’t you… call it off? Reverse it?”

“What do you mean?”

“Look, I am very aware of their mutual pining, and Dean has issues to work through, that much is true. But I’d rather talk to him and assure him that he’s accepted than have him live on a fake high.”

Cindy squinted, looking affronted. “No, you don’t understand. I get you, and it’s nice of you that you’re concerned for your brother’s happiness, but I don’t need to call it off.”

“What?”

“Didn’t you notice? All my spells and jinxes and hexes last for a day. It stops on its own. It’s temporary. People know the effect is over because it can be felt. It’s subdued.”

Sam ran a hand through his hair, mind racing. “It’s been two, almost three days…”

“And they’re still acting as though the spell is on?” Cindy laughed wholeheartedly. Sam huffed, lost for words. He was too tired for this. “I’m sorry, but it lasts twenty-four hours, no more.”

“Oh my God,” Sam groaned into his hands. He didn’t know whether this made it better or worse. They might not have realised that this was the case. Why else would they continue? Dean would potentially die out of embarrassment. “Are you sure?”

“Absolutely. I’m a witch, but now I’m just having fun. I’m practising for Wicked, ya know. I was born to play Elphaba on Broadway.”

“Good luck,” Sam wished her, standing up. “I’m sure you’ll be a great performer one day. Your rendition of Queen was nice, in retrospect.”

“Thank you! I’ll send you three tickets to my first show, ha?”

Sam smiled, a genuine small tug at the corner of his mouth in the past few hours. “I’ll hold you to that. Now if you excuse me, I have news to break to the lovebirds.”

“Send my love!”

“I will,” Sam said, stopping in the doorway. “Hey, Cindy?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re not a bad witch. I don’t know how this will end, but I think you opened their eyes a little. So, thank you, I guess?”

Cindy waved at him, grinning from ear to ear. “You’re welcome! Don’t worry, my intuition tells me it’s going to end up alright. Take care, Sam.”

~

Dean was still awake by the time Sam came back to their room. Cas had dozed off long ago, snoring as he lay across Dean’s torso. If you asked Dean, his brother looked like shit. Maybe he should talk to him. Sam walked to the kitchen table and collapsed in the chair there, so Dean carefully extracted himself from under Cas, making sure to cover him with the duvet. He looked so beautiful when asleep. Part of Dean desperately clung to this, pined after the comfort being able to be this close to Cas all day long. But it seemed that his rationale resurfaced, telling him that this was short-lived. Sam was seeking out ways to break the spell, but did Dean want it to happen? He was conflicted about it. One one hand he was aware that this probably wasn’t healthy, but on the other hand he’s waited for this for _years_. He can’t lose Cas now. Not when he got a taste of how brilliant this could be. 

He padded to the table, blinking away the nap and yawned. Sam looked up, face haggard. “You feeling okay, Sammy?”

“Fine, just…” He put his face in his hands. “Dean, can I ask you something?”

“Of course. Out with it.”

“I know you loved or at least crushed on Cas before this spell business, but… On a scale of one to ten, how much do you honestly love him? Or did before this bullshit hit us.”

Dean thought about the question. Huh. He never spared it much energy, it was pretty spooky just acknowledging it after years of repression… but maybe it was about time to face it while the spell was on and he was more prone to communicate about it, right? 

“Well… it’s hard to say. I loved and I still do love him a heck of a lot,” he said, scratching his temple. He glanced over his shoulder at the snoring Cas. His mouth hung open. Dork. 

Sam gave him a smile, first one in a while, more relaxed. He never said a bad thing about this, he said he was happy for them. Dean spent endless nights worrying about this, what if Sam, if Dean decided to come out and clear, didn’t accept him just like John didn’t all those years ago? But Sam only expressed his concern about the fallout of things _after_ the spell was over, no? That probably meant that he was alright with it. He didn’t cuss them out like Dean secretly feared he might, he didn’t give him the cold shoulder or looked at him like he was a disgrace. No, Sam was there, alright, and happy for them, only wishing this happened sooner. He did tease Dean if they were alone from time to time, but only shortly, and it was light. But Sam didn’t know about the first case, most likely. He didn’t know about the one stern conversation with John afterwards, how that’s the last warning he’s gonna get. 

“Sam, do you remember my seventeenth birthday?” Dean asked quietly, eyes downcast. Sam hummed, giving him space to gather his thoughts. “It’s… did dad ever tell you what I did?”

“I, uh, I read the file that same night. After you came back,” Sam admitted, leaning his elbows on the table. Dean nodded, not looking up. Oof, alright, breathe. Sam pressed on before Dean could think of what to say. “Look, I pieced this together a few years ago. I actually had a plan to talk to you about this, but it never seemed the right time, so I figured…”

“Yeah, okay. I think I’m ready.”

“Cool. Alright, this is gonna be awkward.”

A laugh escaped Dean’s throat. “What do you expect? _Feelings_.”

“Tell me about it,” Sam sniffed, shrugging off his jacket. “So, let me start. I did know about your first case, but it wasn’t until recently that I started thinking about it again. And suddenly, my memories of you when you were a teen and making an off-hand comment about a guy and how he looked and how it stopped so abruptly -- it made sense. I mean, dad was strict, but I never realised how fucked up this was from his side.”

Dean focused on his fingers tapping the wooden surface of the table. “Yeah, I guess.”

“I can’t imagine how you must’ve felt. You showed him a side of yourself that you shouldn’t be ashamed of and he made you shove it somewhere dark and pretend it doesn’t exist! He made you burn the bones of two lesbian nuns to what, show you what may happen to you? That you’re damned?”

“Sam, it’s in the past.”

“Maybe, but you bear the scars.”

Dean swallowed. 

“Look, Dean,” Sam said, shifting in his chair. The bed nest creaked, but Cas was merely moving in his sleep. “I’m sorry dad made you feel like… Like who you’re attracted to isn’t right. That it’s shameful. It isn’t, I want you to know that. Okay? I have to say it now, because otherwise we’re going to dance around it and you’re going to assume some bullshit.

“So. First of all, I never held the same opinion dad did. I never gave a damn about who you flirted with, and I sure as hell don’t give a damn who you ever slept with, guy or girl. I don’t think it is something to be ashamed of, because it simply isn’t. Love is love, right?”

Dean lifted his gaze to Sam’s, lips pursed tight. Apparently he wasn’t _that_ ready to have this conversation. He felt hot tears well up in his eyes, but he refused to yield to the emotions. He never realised he needed to hear words of support until now. Sam, upon seeing Dean on the verge of crying, broke the eye contact to gather himself too. 

“What I mean to say is: I can see what Cas is to you and what you are to him. I have seen it there for some time now, and I would be happy if you two were a couple. Trust me, I have bets in place that could pay for a vacation in Hawaii if you two were any wiser. This spell got in the way, but I think that this -- you and Cas -- could work even outside of it. After it.”

“You think so?”

“I know so. Trust me, Dean, I’ve third-wheeled your asses for long enough to be sure.”

“Smartass.”

“I am, but let me finish my speech, I gave it exactly four brain cells.” Sam took a deep breath. “The point of this awkward monologue slash conversation is to tell you that you’re my brother, and I love you, and I accept you, no matter what or whom you’re going to love yourself. Cas is good for you.”

Dean exhaled through his nose, calm. He nodded, delaying saying a word until he was sure his voice wouldn’t break. “Thank you, Sammy. I appreciate it.”

“You’re welcome. Oh, hi Cas.”

Their friend sleepily waddled up to them, his bed hair intact. Could he look any more perfect? Dean smiled at him, hugging his waist as Cas squinted in the kitchen light. “You’re loud.”

“Sorry, sunshine,” Dean said into the fabric of his borrowed t-shirt. It suited him. He should definitely wear more of Dean’s clothes. “Sam just…”

“I heard it,” Cas said simply. Oh. 

“All of it?”

“Yes. I’m glad Sam supports you.”

“Me too, buddy.” He looked at his exhausted brother, gifting him a grateful smile. 

Sam yawned into his balled fist and shrugged. “Since you’re both up, I have one last question.”

“What is it?” Dean and Cas asked at the same time. 

“You both acknowledged you had feelings for one another prior to this, which means the spell just kind of escalated that attraction. But you’re also both at your senses, which means that you can decide what to do about what your situation is going to be like after the spell is done. I already talked to the witch.”

“You did?”

“About that…” Dean interrupted, a pang of panic seizing his heart. He tightened his hold around Cas’ waist, and he in turn palmed Dean’s cheek. Looking into those sky blue eyes, the softness, the love, this is easy, this spell. It’s not scary. Before, when he had to try and hide his feelings for his best friends, that was unbelievably draining. “I… I don’t think I want the spell to end.”

A frown creased the space between Cas’ eyebrows and a wrinkle appeared. “Why not?”

“Because I love you and I’m scared, Cas,” Dean said in all honesty. His lip trembled, and he pursed his mouth. “I don’t want to lose you.”

“Dean, you know I love you too.”

“Yes, but what if we don’t remember this after the spell is over?”

“Then we’ll get back to it,” Cas replied, calm and reassuring. And Dean trusted him. “I’ll always love you. But we could work on your repertoire when it comes to Spanish soap operas.”

“What’s wrong with _Cassandra_? It ain’t half as bad as I thought.”

“It’s not but your Spanish could use improvement.”

“Flatterer.”

Sam cleared his throat. “Guys, I have something to tell you.” Cas and Dean turned to face him, breaking out of their almost-bickering. Sam had a shit-eating grin on his face. “I talked to the witch, and… remember when you got jinxed?”

“Three days ago now.”

“Yes. And her spell lasted only twenty-four hours.”

It was like they’ve both had ice water dumped on them. They exchanged looks, gaping. “ _What._ ”

“ _Son of a --_ ”

Sam was laughing hysterically, but he sobered up quickly. “Hey, don’t get mad at me. I found out an hour ago. I thought that --”

“That having an emotional speech and then have us confess our love in a normal state under placebo effect was going to work?” Cas finished, amused by the whole ordeal. Dean was still coming down from the shock. 

“Wow. I just. Wow. You sneaky bastard.”

“Hey, it worked,” Sam raised his hands in self defense. Dean found that he didn’t feel half as embarrassed as he probably should be. No, he felt good. Lighter. “And now that we have this out of the way, I’m going to crash. You two idiots talk this out more if you need to, but you admitted your undying love for each other while completely free of any magic, so there’s that. I’ll start booking a second room next time we hit the road, good night.”

And with that, he passed out in the nest of their two beds, shoes still on his feet. 

“Well,” Dean concluded, a blush spreading on his cheeks, “that was… something.”

“Indeed. I don’t regret it, though.” Cas raised his gaze to Dean’s, questioning. “So… Are we doing this? I really do love you. It’s not hard to say it now. Not after I got a taste of it.”

Dean crushed Cas in a bear hug as Sam’s snores echoed through the room, giggling madly. Truly, it is easy to say. And he says it truthfully.

“ _Yo a ti, Cas._ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading :)


End file.
